French-Kissing for Father-Figures
by SailorSilvanesti
Summary: Tumblr Prompt, "Truth Hurts, Don't It? -Bobby to the Boys (Cas, Sam, Dean)" AU Bobby has returned from the Dead. ...and he'd like an explanation about how that happened, but none of the idkits standing before him will meet his gaze long enough to spit it out. And that's when all hell breaks loose... no, literally, here comes Crowley.


Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any associated characters.

Tumblr Prompt, "Truth Hurts, Don't It? - Bobby Singer to the Boys (Cas, Sam, Dean)" AU.

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**~*French-Kissing for Father-Figures*~**

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Bobby levelled his gaze at the trio of Idjits across the room from him, all trying to play it cool, but each of them fidgeting in a different way belying their admittedly impressive expressions of nonchalance.

"Well, you did it now, didn't you?" the grizzled hunter aimed at his boys, with an expression like he'd just french-kissed a lemon… or Crowley…

You know, _again_.

None of them moved so much as a muscle, but their expressions hardened; Sam and Dean preparing for a fight, to defend themselves against the accusation… like that damn fool John Winchester had taught them to from a painfully young age.

Losin' their mama had done those boys a darn shade more dark than anyone could ever fathom, John just wasn't built to be a parent all on his lonesome.

Best thing he'd ever done, steppin' in to take over that role, Bobby reckoned. Sure, John could mess 'em up, take them out at all hours and make the poor kids face what actually lives in the dark under your beds… but Bobby was always there waiting, for the boys to come home, with a kind word and something good to eat.

He wasn't a brilliant cook, but just about anything was better than a crumpled five dollar bill's worth of greasy schlock from some cheesy diner, not for two growing boys.

Every moment he'd spent with those two was etched in his memories like they'd been seared on his brain, good and bad. Each time one of them smiled, every argument he'd had with Sam about why broccoli wasn't evil and actually COULD be eaten, how he'd originally had to trick Dean into playing games… because he'd been trained to think they were stupid…

Everything.

…but, everything they were to each other, still didn't excuse what they'd done. He just couldn't… but it's not as if this was totally out of the reach of possibility with those two…

Three, he should say.

Apparently somewhere along the way he'd adopted himself an angel, which was not something Bobby had ever thought would seem like a logical sentence to him. And that baby in a trenchcoat, mostly depleted of his powers, had recently teleported his freaking self into the loungeroom of the Singer household and collapsed into Bobby's arm, bleeding from having gone against something bigger, badder and more dangerous. Which was classic Winchester, so that moment kind of sealed the deal there…

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Bobby decided he'd let the idjits stew enough, and sighed a bit over-dramatically, before saying, "I shouldn't be here…"

Dean actually flinched at that, Sam hunching over like he'd been scalded, Castiel shifted his gaze from somewhere just over Bobby"s shoulder to the floor before his feet.

"Truth hurts, don't it?"

Three sets of hurt expressions responded, shock evident in every inch of their postures; and he softened a little in response.

"Look, you three, I can't deny I'm thrilled to be top-side again but… you have no idea the anger I feel that one of you put yourselves on the line to get me here again. When I find out who it was, you're getting the spanking of your life, then probably a hug or a skin-mag or something…" he said finally, watching them relax a little, but remain tense and ready. "You might as well fess up now, lay the cards on the table and all that…"

The trio looked at one another, then looked away.

"Well that sure as hell wasn't encouraging, who sold their soul for this apparent miracle?" the older hunter demanded a little more harshly.

"W-well… it wasn't so much my SOUL…" Dean began, only for Sam to cut him off by placing a hand over his mouth.

"…when it comes to souls, Crowley kind of doesn't want ours, apparently so we kind of had to improvise…" the younger Winchester added.

Bobby covered his eyes with a hand, "Just tell me you fools didn't go and kiss him…"

Silence reigned for a moment.

"You didn't…"

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"Oh but they did, and got a pretty good deal out of it too… your soul in exchange for three poster-sized portraits of yours truly getting the old smooch right on the lips from Moose, Squirrel and Bird-boy over there, that I can hang on the wall of my throne room in hell. I think they came out rather tasteful… probably should ask the rest of my demons what they think…" said a rather unwelcome guest, appearing from nowhere and striding over to cast an overly-friendly arm over Bobby's shoulders.

"Move it or lose it, _Christo_…" Bobby muttered, watching with a satisfied smirk as the self-proclaimed King of Hell flung himself away as far from the hunter as physically possible in under a split-second.

"Well, that was rude…" Crowley glared at him, straightening his clothes and brushing off imaginary dirt. "I should take away your legs for that, you jealous old buzzard…"

"Crowley, just… just get out, why are you even here?" Dean managed to say in a voice partially whine, mostly exasperated; like a college student at the very end of exam time, realising they have something due they forgot about and only an hour to do it in.

"Because, dear tentacle-tongued Squirrel, watching you three try to play innocent and pretend that the reappearance of a formerly very-dead hunter to the land of the living was a brilliant coincidence… was both amusing, and just a lot pathetic…" the demon smirked, gesturing magnanimously about the room, "Besides, it's easier if you rip the bandaid off quickly…"

"Shall I remove him?" Castiel asked, looking to Bobby for confirmation.

"No need, son, I've been wanting to do this for a while now…" Bobby responded, smirking somewhat as he looked Crowley dead in the eyes and chanted, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica protestas…"

The demon king began coughing up black and red smoke for a long moment before choking out, "Alright, alright… you got your point across… I'm going!"

He disappeared in a cloud of wispy black smoke and left nothing but a trace of sulfur and the echo of his voice intoning, "Rude."

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"Well," Bobby sighed into the silence, "now that that's over… you care to elaborate on the whole demon-deal to get me back up here?"

"No."

"Nope."

"I would prefer not to relive that."

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The only decent father figure any of them had ever had huffed out a laugh, crossed his arms and said, "Alright then… go brush your teeth thoroughly and I'll make something for dinner… least I could do given your sacrifice there boys."

They turned to head to the upstairs bathroom, and he took that moment to add, "And boys? I'm proud of you… thanks for, well you know, not letting me burn and whatnot…"

He spun on his heels and walked into the Kitchen before those damn idjits' expressions made him blubber like the series finale of one of his favourite soaps…

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**The End**


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